End This Way
by ToTheBlueberry
Summary: Post season 12 one-shot, Dean's POV: No matter what choices they made, what details they altered, they would always end up here, with one Winchester brother's life being cut short. They knew it would end this way. Dean just wanted Cas to give him one last miracle: don't be dead. Please. (Mild Destiel, sorry for the crappy summary)
1. Chapter 1

**This just came to me this weekend. I don't even know what it is. A collection of quotes from the show? Idk. It started with that first quote from Lucifer!Sam in the endverse when he's telling Dean about the inevitability of the Apocalypse. The season 12 finale (where Lucifer is still alive and his kid is free on earth) is kinda similar to that scene. It would always end that way. Maybe not exactly that way, but one way or another, the end would come, and it would take one of them with it. Inspiration from Freedom Hangs Like Heaven by Iron and Wine (good song, please listen to it)**

 **Disclaimer (since I always forget, wouldn't want you mistaking me for a big-bucks writer XD): I don't own Supernatural or the characters. I do, however, own the increasingly depressing situations that I force them into.**

 **Warning- spoilers for pretty much everything after season 4/5: I used quotes to snapshot brief moments from some of the seasons, nothing major, but if you haven't seen the entire series you might want to before you read this. **

**Ok. Anyway. Wow, you're still reading my author's note. I'm impressed. Prepare your tear ducts.**

* * *

 _No matter what choices you make, what details you alter, we will always end up-_

 _here._

There was always a choice. They'd made the wrong ones.

 _This sad doomed little world, it needs you-_

Maybe, Cas, but it needed you too. Why couldn't you see that? How could you not _know?_

 _-it needs every last Winchester it can get-_

Cas. . . Cas, _you_ were a Winchester. A brother. Family, because family don't end in blood. And I'm sorry you didn't know that.

I'm sorry that it had to end this way. With you gone, and Mary. . . now it's just me and Sam. How it had always been, for years.

But now, knowing that we used to have more, that we used to have allies, friends, a family besides each other- knowing that we used to have so much _more,_ a third brother. . .but. . . maybe you were more than a brother to me. I don't know; I'll never be able to ask if you felt the same.

That just makes it harder to continue. I don't think I can.

No. I can't. And I can't care if the nephilim- if Jack- rips the world apart. I can't care. There's nothing to care about anymore. And I know you believed in him, had faith in him, and I wanted to believe you, I wanted to have that same faith, I wanted to believe _in_ you so badly at first, but I- I wasn't brave enough. To save you, or to believe you. To hope. No hope, no disappointments.

 _-I love you. I love all of you-_

I wish you didn't have to say that under those circumstances. It wasn't fair. But I know. We know. We wish you knew the same, that you would have believed me when I repeated your words in the car. But I could see the hesitance, the way your eyebrows drew together in confusion when I uttered the words. You didn't know- you didn't believe me. You didn't believe that you were loved.

But, Cas, you _had_ to know- I'm just- I'm terrible with these things. Emotions. You know that. You, the angel, a member of the one species that's not supposed to feel at all- you felt more than any of us.

You were the one granted- cursed?- with humanity. Faith. Hope.

And, as a brother, or maybe as something more than that, I would have traded my life for yours in an instant. But I didn't get the chance. You didn't _give_ me the chance, you selfish bastard.

 _There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part. So just give me a happy middle, and a very happy start._

Spot on there, wasn't he? I tricked myself into thinking that we could win in the end. That we could all live happily ever after. That after everything we'd seen, everything we'd suffered through, that there was no way it could get worse.

Stupid.

It makes me wonder if God- Chuck- knew that it would come down to this. If he ever cared in the first place. Does he even know that you're. . . that you're gone? I hope he doesn't: if he did, then it means that he really has abandoned us. The absent father, off vacationing with Amara.

I would have been able to accept that before. Why is it so difficult now?

 _Nobody cares that you're broken._

Oh, God, Cas, I was always such a dick to you. I treated you like an ally, a convenient weapon for us to wield. . . why did you ever come back to us? Why did you ever help us? You were a cosmic entity, a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. You had eyes to see the whole world with- the _universe_ with. But you traded it for us. Two brothers in a sea of 7 billion people. Why?

I can't ask you. Your headstone won't answer. It's just as stubborn as you.

 _That's one deep dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you?_

Except I did. I did. The deep dark, the raw hole in my chest that I tried to hide from Sammy, from everyone, the one that seemed to grow, the one that I feared would one day consume me- it was banished by the light of an angel's grace. Of your grace, Cas. You can see souls. I'm sure you saw it. All of it. The corrupted darkness. It had nothing to do with the Mark of Cain. It was just-

 _me._ But you weren't disgusted by it. My emptiness. You didn't turn away. You. . .

You saved my _soul_ , Cas. Twice. You didn't know. I didn't tell you.

There were so many things I didn't tell you.

 _I'm not leaving here without you. Either you're in or you're out._

My own words back in Purgatory. They were lies. As much as I believed them, as much as I needed them to be true. . . But I guess this time around, you were the one that left me.

 _You can't save everyone, my friend._

No. You were right, Cas. I can't save anyone.

 _I rebelled. And I did it- all of it- for you. And you failed._

I know. I failed you. We failed you. So many times. After everything you'd done, everything you sacrificed for us. . . we let you down too many times.

 _I prayed to you, Cas. Every night._

Did you ever hear me? Did you hear what I prayed for? It wasn't to be saved. It wasn't to see Sam. I certainly didn't pray for reassurance.

I prayed for _you_ , Cas. You. To see you. To know that you were safe.

 _Don't ever change, Cas._

I miss you.

 _I need you._

You didn't know what those words meant to me. Maybe that's why I chose them- I wasn't prepared to tell you then. I'm ready now, but now is too late.

"I need you" is what my dad would say to me when I was a kid, when we were on hunts and I was scared of what was out there. He would say "I need you" instead of "I love you". Maybe it was easier for him to say that, to act like I was a soldier instead of his 6 year old son.

Yeah, I know. I had a messed up childhood. Maybe that's why this is so hard for me.

 _You know me. Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters._

I need you.

It took me so long to realize that I-

I love you.

Cas? Castiel? Can you- can you just give me one last miracle?

Don't be dead.

Please.

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 **Please review if you liked it- this is my first time posting something with first person POV, and it was kind of weird for me. Actually, the style (layout, mostly) of this entire chapter is different from how I normally write, so any feedback/critique would be greatly appreciated. Thanks :)**


	2. Revenant

**This is now a slight spin off of my other fic, I See a Darkness, which I had conjured up an alternate plot for but didn't know if I would use it until now. I used some material from that fic, but I tried to change most of it so it would still be original.**

 **Chapter Inspiration: Revenant- someone who has returned, especially as from the dead**

 ** _Recap:_**

 _I need you._

 _It took me so long to realize that I-_

 _I love you._

 _Cas? Castiel?_

 _Can you- can you just give me one last miracle?_

 _Don't be dead._

 _Please._

 **CHAPTER 2: REVENANT**

Cas died on a Thursday.

It was May. Sunny. They'd chosen a nice grassy patch under the weeping willow tree. The upturned earth was warm as two graves were dug by two brothers. Sweat made Sam's shirt cling to his back as he brought the shovel down to the earth.

Dean tried to help. A last gesture, a sign of loyalty to a fallen brother.

Dean's hands were shaky from nerves and pain, a sheen of sweat appearing on his too-pale skin. Every time he brought the shovel down, his broken ribs threatened to puncture a lung. But if Dean noticed, he couldn't bring himself to care.

It didn't take long before Sam snatched the shovel from Dean's hands. "I don't need you killing yourself." Sam had said.

Dean didn't argue, which only made Sam that much more worried. Quiet Dean was not good. He made his brother go sit at the base of the willow until he was done.

Halfway through digging Kelly's grave, he looked over to see his brother bent over something with his pocketknife in hand. Good. He was keeping himself busy. Trying to stay distracted.

A few minutes later Dean limped over, and Sam finally saw what he was working on. He had made a rickety little cross out of some nearby tree branches and lashed them together with braided pieces of grass. He wordlessly handed it to Sam, who stuck it in the ground at the head of the graves.

They stood there for a moment. Sam opened his mouth to say a few words, just because it seemed like he ought to, but nothing came out. He sighed, wetting his lips. He was about to try again, but a rustle of movement made him stop.

He watched as Dean walked away.

 _They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever._

Why- why isn't this pain slipping away? It's latching on, hooking deep into me like a parasite. That pain, the pain of hellfire, of a bone-deep ache that had only begun to start carving away shards of my soul. . .

That' was nothing. That was _easy_.

But this- I can _feel_ my soul shattering. I can feel little shards of broken glass where it used to be, cutting up everything that comes near, hiding away like a wounded animal. The glass, my soul, it's tearing me apart from the inside, shredding me, ripping a hole through me, and I can't help but wish I could feel real pain, because maybe it would numb this, this feeling, this-

This heartbreak.

I can't fill this hole. This hole is me now. It's who I am. A black hole, sucking everything in to where it'll never see the sun: I'm destruction incarnate, utterly void of all light. But maybe, if I play my cards right, I can use this to my benefit. I can direct this black hole, this whirlwind of destruction, towards my enemies, towards Jack and Lucifer and whatever the hell I come across when me and Sam open a portal to find mom. But until then, I have to make sure my black hole doesn't destroy _me,_ or Sam.

And the worst part?

The worst part is, I can imagine what you would say: that you were just a soldier. That I shouldn't grieve you. I can imagine it like you were saying it, whispering it in my ear, right now. Whispering lies, you tricking yourself into thinking that you weren't important. That you never were. That you're not worth all this pain.

But Cas- you're wrong. You're so very, very wrong. You, of all people, should know- sometimes, the pain that we bring on people- sometimes it isn't deserved. It isn't fair. And sometimes- hell, all the time- there's no rhyme or reason to it. But knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less. And yes, Cas, maybe you thought I was redeemable, fixable, even after everything I've done to you, all the pain I've caused you, but. . .

I'm not.

I, Dean Winchester, I'm utterly broken. My soul is a tangle of sharp jagged bits. I'm scared to touch it because I don't want to get hurt. I'm scared to let Sam see it, because he might try to help fix me. I'm past fixing. I'm damned, it seems, destined to see everyone I love die. I'm irredeemable, despicable, hateful, and I betrayed and hurt you time and again. And yet, through it all, I still had the nerve to call you my best friend.

And you. . .

You were naive enough to call me the righteous man.

-  
Life continues for everything else. It's summer- the sun is beating down, the crickets chir when the sun wakes up and when it dies, and the bullfrogs croak out near the lake at night. Birds still sing, grass still grows. I still breathe.

It isn't fair. It seems impossible, really, that life should go on as normally as ever in the face of what happened- but I suppose the trees don't know, or don't care, as much as God doesn't.

The cross is just salt in the wound. A reminder, a marker that screams _You could've fixed this_ to god, which Dean himself wanted to scream.

Dean pulled himself out of his thoughts for a moment, shifting his gaze to Kelly's grave just a few feet away with a cross almost identical to Cas'. I can feel myself nudging to the point where I'll be past feeling, past caring. I'm scared to fall off that precipice, but at the same time I don't want to feel. I want to be numb.

Kelly was innocent. They both were- and why was it that only the good die young?

My hand is suddenly moving of its own accord, tremors shaking through my fingers as I run my thumb across the rough carving on the branch. C. My heart's already broken, but if it wasn't I'm sure it would be near tearing again when my thumb runs over the W. Winchester. Because that's what Cas was: a Winchester.

 _Family don't end in blood, boy._

That's just the problem, wasn't it? For the Winchesters, family _always_ ended in blood.

I take a shaky breath, bowing my head. I don't care if it looks like I'm praying.

When I open my eyes again, the sun is much lower than it had been. The sky is changing colors, and I can hear the buzz of insects all around me. Moisture from the dirt long since seeped into the knees of my jeans, but I can't pretend to care. I-

"Dean." A voice is hovering behind my shoulder, tentative and firm all at once. I look to my side and almost jump to see Sam standing there, but I don't. My gaze slides back emptily to the still-slightly-raised mound of dirt in front of me.

I don't want to turn away- I don't think I can. I've been kneeling here for I don't know how long. It's been an eternity: now I'm rooted to the ground like the huge weeping willow that stands vigil over your grave. Or maybe I'm more like a blade of grass, so easily broken and bent.

I take what I think will be the last look until tomorrow at the crosses. They're rickety, lashed together with flimsy twine. They're almost falling apart. But they were holding themselves together better than us.

We have our facades, of course, but even a facade can look like a familiar face to your loved ones. We're both falling apart, a pair of marionette dolls that Fate had played with a bit too harshly. We are broken. Fate has been careless. Our hearts have been twisted and torn and stitched back together until they don't resemble anything that was once capable of emotion, and every time we have to do _this,_ bury a friend, _family,_ I can't help but wish to God it was me instead of them.

I wish to God I could take your place. But I know he isn't listening anymore.

"What are we gonna do?" The owner of the voice is at my shoulder now, crouching down next to me. I can see Sam out of the corner of my eye: he's looking at me, unsure of what he should be doing. I suppose he finally decides to just be a brother, a constant force for me to lean on. He looks away, eyes roving over the small cross made of knotted branches. They pause on the initials carved at the center, where the two branches are lashed together.

His words are still ringing in my ears, echoing in my head. _What are we gonna do?_ What _can_ we do? We don't have anything left. No plan, no mom, no Cas, no help.

No hope.

I say the first thing that comes to mind, what's been ingrained in me since my mom was first taken from me, and what's been reinforced since then.

"We fight. Like we always do."

C'mon, Dean. You're the big brother. You still gotta take care of Sammy. Don't make him grieve another death.

Your heart stopped. Mine broke.

This feels- _wrong_ , somehow. I don't know what "this" is, why I feel guilty. Because I'm still alive? Because I'm even remotely relieved that it was you and not Sam? Because I know you were a friend, and the past few weeks between us- we abandoned you. Betrayed you. After all of our promises, all of our assurances that you wouldn't be alone, that you had _us,_ a _family-_ and we abandoned you because of some stupid idea you had, that a demon baby could be _good_. You always saw the good in everything, Cas. In Jack. In humanity, with all of its hatred and flaws. In the notion that your brothers weren't all evil.

You saw the good in me. In Sam.

You deserve more than this. You deserve to be alive and breathing, standing here next to me as the world says its goodbyes to Kelly Klein. Standing with us against the world, against all odds. Like you always were.

Like you always had been.  
Is this what those cosmic consequences were? They _feel_ cosmic. And now- now I wish you hadn't killed Billie that night Cas, because I'd rather be dead than be feeling this numb grief whenever I think of you, or say your name. I'd rather be dead than have to deal with this grief, like an old friend, over yet another person I love that I failed to save.

I'd rather be dead. You hear me, Cas?

And I'm sorry- God, I'm sorry for so many things. So many, Cas. I just want you to know- you were one of us, wings or not. You were _human,_ maybe more human than Sam and I ever were, and sometimes I forgot that you didn't actually have a soul. And I'm sorry that we didn't honor you with a hunter's burial, but, Cas, you have to understand. . .

If there's the slightest chance you can come back- the _slightest_ chance, which, less face it, we've worked with less- you'll need a body to come back to. And I know you would never go all vengeful spirit on us, so don't even try to pull that card. Don't try to keep me from doing this.

I know you don't have a soul. And I know that if you were here, you would say that I was being too hopeful, tell me to move on, keep fighting the good fight because the world _needs_ us, that we shouldn't be wasting so much time grieving you or some crap. But Cas, you have to know -

I'd rather have you. Ghost or not.

Castiel remembered stepping through the portal, leaving Lucifer kneeling on the dusty barren ground with an angel blade sticking through his gut. He stalked back towards the portal, wanting nothing more than to get out of this sad, doomed little world. A world without two heroes.  
He allowed himself to breathe when he was through the portal, when the earth morphed under his feet from crumbling clay to grass. Sam and Dean were waiting on the other side, both with relief etched on their faces when they saw Castiel.

It didn't last very long.

He knew before he even felt it. Their faces told him- something terrible had just happened.

He supposed he had to have felt something, but he couldn't quite remember. It felt- _empty_. A strange tingling, like he was a phantom and someone was waving their hand inside his chest trying to find his heart. It only lasted two eternal seconds, and then it was over.

Castiel was dead before he hit the ground.

That was the end of it. A millennia of experience, of hopes, dreams, love, friendship, pain, betrayal. Sacrifice. A brother. A fighter. Snuffed out by 20 inches of metal.

He had been expecting nothing. Just- endless blackness. A void. Emptiness. He didn't have a soul, after all. He knew what was waiting for him when he died- or rather, what wasn't waiting for him.

But Castiel- he wasn't an angel. Not really. And he hadn't been for a long, long time. Perhaps a part of him always knew that.

Blessings, it seemed, presented themselves in the strangest ways _._

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 **Hope you guys liked this chapter- I've had it sitting around collecting plot bunnies for a few weeks now. Not to worry, there's more to come.**


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